Ten
OREN
My family rarely goes to away games unless they’re in LA or San Jose. I’m incredibly thankful for that because car rides with them for any lengthy bit of time are entirely miserable.
I’m not sure my family is convinced that my story is true, but I’ve mastered the white lies to avoid confrontation with them.
It’s easiest to stay mostly unseen if I give them nothing to look at.
So I made something up about how several members of the security team checked in with Coach Adak and the Bobcats after their game the night I was invited into the locker room.
Of course, every time I bring that up, Frankie goes off on another whiny tangent about how unfair it was that I was chosen to go back when obviously he’s the real fan and he deserves it more.
Keeping a neutral, blank face has been my saving grace for years, so while I bite my tongue so I don’t tell him they’d likely kick his ass if they ever met him, I say nothing.
However, the time to make excuses believable has passed today. They’re playing the Pittsburgh Chaos today in an early afternoon game that starts at one. Which means we’re making our way to the arena before noon.
If you’ve ever been to a hockey game, you know that there’s mass entry more than an hour before a game so everyone can find their seats, check out the team shop, get snacks, and maybe participate in whatever raffle is going on.
Because of the time, we’ll be heading for food before our seats.
It sounds like we’re in our normal seats today, which are still decent.
They’re close to the goal, eight rows up.
As long as there’s a lot of action on this end of the arena, it’s a good place to be.
Otherwise, I end up watching the big screen so I can see what’s going on.
The lines move quickly. Frankie is talking about stopping in the shop to see if they have any new jerseys.
Not like he has a dozen or anything. Nor does he have any money.
He’s like Daddy’s little princess and gets spoiled for fuck knows why.
Our father has made him into that, so if he ever gets tired of Frankie’s lame lifestyle, it’s all on him.
But why would he when he has me to be disappointed in?
I refused to go to college for what he wanted me to—hence why he wouldn’t let me go until I changed my mind.
I refused to work at the prison like he wanted me to.
I’m not six feet tall like he wanted me to be.
And those are just my deficiencies in adulthood.
We’re just inside, our tickets having been scanned, when the security guard Larry spots me and gives me a huge smile, something my family doesn’t miss. Even Haze looks at me curiously, which is a much kinder expression than the others.
“Oren!” Larry says.
I give him a weak smile and a wave.
“I have something for you,” he says, which only makes me cringe. I have no idea what it could be, but I’m dreading it all the same.
The questions!
Reluctantly, I move closer to Larry as he reaches into the pocket on his thigh and produces a lanyard with a VIP seat and locker room pass. My heart flutters because I know this is from Adak. He wants to see me.
It’s really difficult not to grin like a loon as my stomach flutters. I’d give anything to be able to text him. Instead, I keep my smile as even as possible, hoping he can see the truth of how I feel in my eyes. “Thank you.”
He grins and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll catch you after the game,” he says.
I nod as he turns to walk off. My shoulders stiffen because I can feel my family looking at me. I can already hear the questions that they want answers to. The urge to shout that not everyone hates me as much as they do is strong. Not everyone thinks I’m a failure and worthless.
For obvious reasons, I don’t say those things. Not only is it in an entirely inappropriate place, but it would only start a fight that I don’t want to be in.
But eventually, I have to turn around and face my family. With the hard plastic pass attached to the lanyard clutched in my hand, the relief that comes with the knowledge that I’ll be able to get away from them for the game is so strong that I’m almost smiling.
Until I see my father’s face. The severe frown says I won’t be in that seat.
“Dad,” Frankie says, a combination of whining and salivating in his tone. “Why does he keep getting special treatment?”
“He doesn’t.” My dad holds his hand out. “Give me the pass, Oren. Your brother will get to meet the team this time.”
If I run, will they chase me? What if I refuse, what then? We’re in public, so they can’t yell and scream at me, right?
Dane moves closer to me. It’s been a lot of years since he’s put his hands on me, but the memory of it feels like it was just last week.
I’ve heard a lot of excuses from my father over the years when my teachers or guidance counselors noticed the bruises.
Just roughhousing with his brothers. Boys will be boys.
There was no play in those moments. I remember Dane’s face. The way he looked at me. If someone said Dane hated me, I’d believe it.
I give my lanyard to Dad.
Frankie beams, looking at me all smugly as he slings it around his neck.
Without another word, we head to the team store where Frankie is rewarded with another jersey. This one is Lamar Gibbon, #17, and he puts it on over the one he wore, acting like he’s ten the way he’s bouncing around.
I follow them through the arena, heading for the concession stands. Haze stays at my side, his shoulder bumping into mine now and then. I make more room for him without meeting his eyes. Big guys take up more than their fair share of space, after all.
No one ever asks me what I want to eat. Here is no different; so I’m not surprised when I’m handed a paper box with a burger, fries, a bag of chips, and a bottle of cola. I hate cola, I’d much rather drink water. I don’t care for chips either.
As usual, I say nothing. I’ll likely eat the burger and pick at the fries, leaving the other things untouched.
Which will cause me to be scowled at and told I eat like a bird.
The fact that I don’t like certain foods clearly has no merit when it comes to whether I eat something or not.
They’ve never asked, and the one time I said I didn’t like something as an adult, I still wasn’t given a choice.
My one act of rebellion is that regardless of what they give me, if I don’t like it, I won’t eat it.
It goes in the trash. As will these chips and cola.
I keep thinking that maybe one of these days, someone will get the hint.
Even though I know that’s not the case. I’ll just be told I’m disrespectful.
We head to our seats, sans Frankie. Honestly, I’m not upset about that. Dane ignores me as much as possible, so he’s far more preferable to be around than Frankie, who I swear will go out of his way to pick at me. Just because he can.
Haze always goes in first, and he takes his usual seat. I sit next to him. Dane leaves a seat between us now and takes Frankie’s spot next to Dad.
I want to cry. I was so close to getting away from them for the night. What’s going to happen when Adak sees my brother being led to the locker room instead of me? I can’t even pull my phone out to tell him.
I’m partially through my burger when the teams start skating on the ice for warm up. I watch absently, staring at the player’s bench for Adak. When I see him, my heart skips. He talks with Traer and then turns to look into the crowd.
We’re far enough away that I can’t make out more than where he is and in what direction he’s facing. A minute passes and I feel my phone in my pocket. Would it be convincing that I go to the bathroom right now so I can check it?
I don’t. Knowing my father, he’ll send Dane or Haze with me as if I’m five years old and not allowed to go on my own. So I sit there, wishing I had told Adak about my father at the very least.
Turning my attention to the ice, I continue to slowly munch on my lukewarm fries as I watch Gibbon go through his dirty stretches. They always put a smile on my face. A bit.
“What’s he doing?”
I turn at my father’s question to see what he’s talking about.
My heart jumps into my throat as I see Larry escorting Frankie to us.
He’s not wearing my lanyard because it’s in Larry’s hand.
Frankie looks like he’s ready to throw a monumental tantrum.
Larry looks irritated but when his eyes meet mine, they’re concerned.
I’m trying really hard to remain neutral and look on with casual curiosity, but inside I’m desperate for… well, I’m just desperate. See through me!
They stop in the aisle and Larry looks at my father. “These are non-transferable, Mr. Prosser.”
“Oren knows how much Frankie loves hockey, so he offered the pass to his brother. Surely there’s an exception?” Dad asks.
Larry looks at me. Followed by my family.
“Curious. That’s not what Frankie said,” Larry says. “Do you want this pass, Oren?”
I’m not allowed to say yes. Not if I want to go home this evening without facing hostility when we get there. I do anyway. Just a slight nod.
I feel it immediately. The chill I receive from my father and older brothers. Their glares say it all. Quickly, I get to my feet. Haze is already standing, allowing me room to get by him instead of trying to convince my father and Dane to move for me.
“I have three sons and a daughter,” Larry says. “I treat them all equally. Maybe you should consider doing the same.”
A lead ball drops in my stomach at his words. I stare with wide, horrified eyes that he said that. Larry has no idea that he just made my night go from bad to worse.
When I meet Larry at the bottom of the stairs, he hands me the lanyard. “Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod. Knee jerk reaction. Not the truth. I’m definitely not okay. This is not okay. I still have to go home to them!
“Look at me,” Larry says, and I raise my eyes to his. “Are you in trouble?”
I desperately want to tell him yes. Just because it’s been years since my brothers have hit me doesn’t mean they won’t start again.
“No,” I say. “Frankie’s just hockey obsessed, so Dad thought he should get to meet the team too.”
Larry doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me while I don’t meet his eyes. Seconds pass and I think I’m going to pass out.
“Okay, I’ll bring you to your seat, Oren,” Larry says, and I follow him, keeping my head down. I can feel them watching me. I can feel it like they’re blows.
The seat that he brings me to is right beside the players’ bench. Like, touching it. As soon as Adak sees me, he smiles. Even though everything inside me is filled with dread for the moment I have to go home, I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face too.
I can’t hear him through the glass. Larry rests his hand on my shoulder before moving away, giving Adak a nod.
I have so many questions. Instead, I take my seat and finish my fries and burger while staring at my…
boyfriend. I can call him that, right? I’m allowed to? We said we were going to be together.
The game is a win, 3-2, and the team is excited.
Larry is in the aisle waiting for me as soon as the last buzzer sounds and I’m on my feet, nearly running to meet him.
It’s not just my excitement to see Adak that has me not wasting any time, but nerves and fear that my father will try to stop me if given the chance.
However, we move into the chute and toward the team without an issue.
I don’t even look for my family. I’m sure they’re watching.
Angry. Plus Frankie is jealous. And tonight I’ll have to face them with some plausible explanation for why I keep getting invited back, but as of right now, I ignore all that.
My heart seriously skips entire beats when I reach Adak. His smile for me is big and soft at the same time. The way his dark eyes sparkle in the bright light of the hall has my stomach dancing.
I’m practically jumping to his side, and he immediately wraps an arm around me, kissing my forehead. “You okay?” he asks. I have a feeling he’s been waiting to ask that since he saw Frankie in my seat.
I nod. “Yep.”
Adak turns my face up to meet his and there it is. Question. Concern. He doesn’t ask when I shake my head. “It’s okay,” I say. “Promise.”
His eyelids hood and I’m sure he doesn’t believe me. I’m not sure I believe me, because I don’t know what’s going to be waiting for me at home. But I give Adak a smile and wrap both my arms around his waist. “Congrats on the win, Coach.”
He sighs and kisses my forehead again. “Come on. We have hockey players to round up. Then we’ll get out of here.”
Nothing sounds better than that.